Old Friends
by Alkeni
Summary: Looking to recruit his old friend into the Stargate Program, Daniel Jackson visits Wesley Wyndam-Pryce in Los Angeles. Of course, knowing the luck of everyone involved, Daniel ends up getting caught up in one of Angel Investigation's cases. Can't two old friends just have a normal day to catch up?
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Stargate SG-1 or Angel the Series. They belong to Joss and ME and WB, and MGM and whoever else owns 'em.

**Author's Note:** This story initially takes place after Episode 4x13 "The Curse" of Stargate SG-1, and after Episode 3x03 "That Old Gang of Mine" of Angel. And yeah, I know the dates and years don't match up between the two 'verses. Pretend they do, okay? There's a reason it's called author fiat, you know...

Old Friends

By Alkeni

Chapter 1

**October 7****th****, 2001  
Stargate Command, Cheyenne Mountain, Colorado**

Daniel Jackson knocked lightly on the frame of General George Hammond's open door, letting the USAF two-star general, who was currently buried almost neck deep in paperwork, know he was there. "General Hammond?"

Hammond looked over to him. "Come in, Dr. Jackson. You said you wanted to see me?" Daniel nodded. "Please, sit." George gestured to the chair across from him, and Daniel sat.

"Paperwork?" Daniel offered as a way to break the ice.

"Requisition forms. I need to check and countersign everything." Hammond smiled a little, his Texan drawl thickening somewhat. "Friend of mine who became an Admiral told me once that the Navy, contrary to common belief, sailed on paper, not water. It's as true for the Air Force, believe me."

"Oh, I believe you." Daniel remarked. "I've heard Jack complain about the mission reports."

"Don't let him fool you. Colonel O'Neill doesn't like writing them, but when he does, they're quality reports." Hammond set the latest sheet of paper down and looked over at him, hands clasped in front of him on the desk. "So, what can I do for you, Dr. Jackson?"

"Well, sir, it's about what we talked about last month. Hiring more people for my department. We still haven't replaced Rothman..." The archaeologist paused a moment, painfully recalling his deceased former colleague. "Which is as much my fault as anyone else's... I haven't really wanted to. But there's just too much workload for me to do it all alone, even once we replace Dr. Rothman."

"Dr. Jackson, I sympathize with your problem, you know that. But we can't exactly put out a Help Wanted advertisement. Finding people who are skilled enough, might be receptive and that we can give security clearance to is a difficult task. Although, while we're on the subject, I wanted to ask you – what do you think about Doctor Raynar? From his resume, he's certainly got the talent and the knowledge to be a help to the program, but you're the one who actually _knows_him."

Daniel shook his head after a few seconds' consideration – whatever personal issues he had with Stephen, Hammond was right that he had the skills needed. But still, Dr. Jackson just didn't think it would work out. "I don't think so, General. I mean, yeah, if it were possible Stephen would be great to bring on board, especially after what happened with Sarah. But when I dropped off the grid and basically vanished from public view, I had a very public disgrace that people could point to to explain it. Stephen's situation is different; he's well published – even has a best-selling book – and he's highly respected in the field. A rising star. He's not going to be able to disappear from academia that easily, and since he can't publish anything we find out..."

Daniel shook his head again. "And even if that wasn't an issue, I don't think he'd take the job, anyway. I mean, working under me? Being forced to admit that I was right and he was wrong, all along? I don't think Stephen would be able to cope with that, at least not for very long. That's just the sort of man he is."

George nodded. "Alright. I'll take that under consideration, though it doesn't help the current problem."

"No, it doesn't. But actually, I had someone else in mind that I was going to raise with you. An old friend and acquaintance of mine, from when I studied at Oxford for a few years. We've kept in touch by letter and phone calls since. He's English, his name is Wesley Wyndam-Pryce."

Hammond nodded. "What are his qualifications?"

"Well, he speaks as many languages as I do – not counting all the ones I've picked up since I've joined the program, anyway. And he's just about as quick as I am at picking up languages and dialects of all kinds. His focus of study was Iron Age European History, Archaeology, Mythology – though given some of the things we've encountered so far, that could actually give us a useful different perspective. Egypt's not the only culture the Goa'uld stole from, and then there's all the other aliens pretending to be our old gods or mythic figures from every culture..."

"And you've known him for all this time? Why didn't you suggest him sooner?" Hammond wrote down the name. Obviously, there would have to be thorough background checks on this man and his situation, but assuming Daniel was correct, the man could be useful. Anyone with Dr. Jackson's facility with languages, or close, would be priceless – the civilian member of SG-1 was in great demand for any number of dig sites and finds on other worlds, since he was more fluent than anyone else in the languages they had to deal with.

"Well, when I was suggesting people I knew that might be receptive and helpful to the program three years ago, Wesley was still working for the IWC." He saw Hammond raise an eyebrow. "I don't know what it stands for, Wesley didn't either. But from what I know they're antiquities dealers, appraisers, occasionally translators. Depending on who you are and what you know, they'll also allow occasional access to some of the rare books they've got. Impressive collections. Based in the United Kingdom, they're well known in the field, even sponsoring occasional digs. They've been around for around for the past two hundred years or so, and Wesley's family has been with them for at least three or four generations. He was quite looking forward to continuing the family tradition, according to his letters. But a couple of years ago, he quit, apparently. There were some really nasty office politics involving his father and the guy running the IWC at the time. Not sure why it never occurred to me to consider him for this since then, but I was reading his latest letter the other day – and I suddenly realized he'd be the perfect guy to assist me here at the SGC. Especially since he's now living in Los Angeles."

"You do understand we'll have to look into him ourselves, before he's granted security clearance to know what we do here?"

"Of course. Though actually, before you do, I'd like to go see him myself – it's been years since I've spoken to him face to face. With Jack and Teal'c still in Minnesota and Sam wanting to study the stasis device on the Isis Jar some more, it seems like a pretty good time to do that. Uh, and I guess I'd need to sound him out about all this; Wesley's running a private detective agency nowadays, oddly enough. I don't know if he'd actually be receptive to working for us or not."

"So you'd like to personally assess if he's SGC material?" Hammond asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Pretty much." Daniel confirmed. "If it doesn't seem like he'd work well here, or if he doesn't seem likely to take the job, then no need to look into him any further."

Hammond considered. "Alright, Dr. Jackson. You have a go."

**Five minutes later  
Angel Investigations, Los Angeles, California**

Cordelia picked up the phone within a second of it ringing. "Angel Investigations, we help the hopeless."

"Well, I'm not hopeless," An unfamiliar male voice said from the other end of the line. "Is Wesley there? I called his apartment, but nobody picked up, so I figured I'd call his work number."

Cordelia looked into Wesley's office. He was still meeting with that Slarn demon, darn it. "He's in a meeting with a client, but he should be done soon. Can you wait a few minutes? And can I tell him who's calling?" _Full on receptionist mode, Cordelia._ Much as the visions gave her killer headaches, at least they were more interesting than just answering the phones and manning the desk.

"Uhm, yeah, I can wait a few minutes. And, oh, sorry. My name's Daniel Jackson. I'm an old friend of Wesley's."

Cordelia looked back over to the private office. The demon was coming out, and Wesley shook its blue-skinned hand. "We'll get back to you as soon as we have anything."

"Thank you." The demon said in a voice too high-pitched for its bulk. It went for the door and was out of the Hyperion in moments.

"Hey, Wesley, there's a Daniel Jackson on the line for you? Says he's an old friend?" Cordelia called out.

"Ah? Well, I wasn't expecting a call from him. I hope everything's alright." The two of them usually just sent letters to one another. Slower, but it was their normal style. Wes stepped back into his private office and picked up the phone. "Daniel? To what do I owe the pleasure?" He asked with a smile. He gestured at Cordelia to hang up the phone. Rolling her eyes and mouthing 'spoilsport', she hung up. Smirking, Wesley sat back in his chair.

"Well, there's a few new exhibits at some of the museums in L.A. that I wanted to take a look at. There's not much happening here at work right now, so I was going to take some time off. And I figured since you're there, I could stop by, say hi, catch up. Been years since we last saw each other, after all."

"Yes, true enough. And as I recall, the last time I saw you in person, you were preparing to jettison your career on a rather... radical idea." Wesley said with a slight laugh. "I told you to wait until you had more evidence, you know."

"Yeah, I know, and you were right." Daniel said, a slightly amused tone in his voice. Sore spot, yes, but Wesley was one of the few people who could get away with it. "But I've already given you my reasons for catching up in person."

"You have." Wesley smiled. "Well, I'd certainly enjoy seeing you again." He laughed. "Though you should probably just come by the office. I practically live here these days."

"So I gathered from your letters. Is someone making sure you eat?"

"Now, now, I'm not _that _bad." Wesley shot back. "Daniel, old man, _**you**_ were always the one that needed to be reminded to eat when you were studying. Sarah had a hard enough time forcing you to do that, as it was." Wesley couldn't help noticing the sudden silence on the phone. "Daniel? Is something wrong?"

There was a sigh on the other end. "No, sorry. Just...when I went to Dr. Jordan's funeral the other day...Sarah was there. We spent some time together, and then we ended up having a pretty nasty fight, to put it mildly. She...she's changed since I last saw her. Since you last saw her, for that matter. I'm still a bit sore about the subject, is all."

"I take it she slapped you?" Wesley chuckled, despite himself.

"Repeatedly." Daniel provided after a moment. "Anyway, I'll be flying out tomorrow morning. Check into a hotel, rent a car and then drop by your workplace around...say, two?"

"Sounds like a plan." Wesley agreed. "I can introduce you to everyone."

"Ah, yes, the co-workers you've told me all about. That would've been Cordelia answering the phone, right?"

"It was. As a matter of fact, right now she's trying to look busy, and not like she's not eavesdropping on my half of the conversation." He raised his voice. "Try harder next time, Cordelia." The dark-haired Seer scoffed and rolled her eyes, filing a case file into its drawer.

Daniel chuckled. "They're the kind to give you the third degree about everything, too?"

"Oh yes." Wesley said. "Of course, I give them the third degree about working for me, so it's only fair play, I suppose."

"There is that." A pause, and Wes heard some papers moving around. "Well, I need to wrap up a bit of work here before I can head back home, so I'll see you tomorrow?"

"Sounds good. See you then."

"See who?" Angel asked from the doorway, arms crossed in front him as he leaned against the frame.

"Ah, Angel, there you are. And it's Daniel Jackson, an old friend of mine from Oxford. We haven't seen each other in quite a few years. He's going to be in Los Angeles tomorrow, and so we're going to spend some time together, catch up. How much of the conversation did you hear, anyway?" he asked as Cordelia came over into the office.

Angel shrugged. "About half of it."

"Whereas you eavesdropped on all of it." Wesley said to Cordelia, bemused.

"Yeah, and? So, spill! Tell us about this Daniel Jackson guy. Is he cute?"

"Not to me, I must admit. And there's not much to tell, really. We met when we were both studying at Oxford, not long after I graduated from the Watchers Academy. He's an archaeologist and linguist. Doctorate in both, actually. He specialized in ancient Egypt. He ended up going to the University of Chicago to get his Doctorate, and we've kept in touch since. Letters, usually."

"Daniel Jackson..." Angel murmured the name, as if it sounded familiar. "Wait...he's the guy who did that speech about the Pyramids and aliens, right? The entire room was empty after ten minutes." He saw Wesley's look. "I read about it."

Wesley nodded. "Well, yes. Despite his status as a rising star at the time, he was laughed out of academia after that. The man then vanished off the face of the Earth for over a year – I was actually a quite concerned, after a while. Although given the circumstances, it's quite understandable, of course. He works for the Air Force as a translator these days."

"Why? If he's an archaeologist, shouldn't he be out, you know, digging stuff up?" Cordy frowned.

"No doubt he'd certainly love to, but when you stand up in front of a crowd of academics and say that the pyramids are thousands of years older than previously thought and that there's no way the Egyptians built them themselves...you do tend to find yourself without options in the field. He took whatever was available for work. Anyway," Wes added. "He doesn't know about what we do here – demons and vampires and all that. So let's keep it to ourselves, shall we?" Then he let out a sigh, looking up.

"You know you just jinxed us completely, right?" Angel pointed out, smiling.

"Yes, I suppose I did." Wesley sighed. "Let's hope not, anyway. He'll be here tomorrow. Hopefully, just for one day, things will be nice and normal around here..."


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer:** Blah, blah, blah you know the drill. I don't own it. Joss, MGM, etc. etc. own everything. The legal owners of all copyrighted material own what they own, and I don't own what is copyrighted.

Thanks to my beta, Starway Man

Old Friends

By Alkeni

Chapter 2

**October 8****th****, 2001**

**Angel Investigations, Los Angeles, California**

"I've checked with all the usual suspects in the occult market." Angel said as he came back up from the basement. "None of them have it, know where it is, or have any idea who might be moving it. Not even when I got all... persuasive."

"Well, it was a long shot anyway." Wesley said from the desk, five books spread out in front of him. "I suppose that means the other sect really did take it."

"Wes," Gunn cut in. "You tellin' me we're going to get into the middle of _another_ religious war? You know what my Uncle Theo said!"

"Gunn," Wesley countered, "You don't have an Uncle Theo."

"Point still stands. Gettin' into the middle of a fight over religion is just dumb. Getting into one takin' place between a bunch of demons makes even less sense." Gunn dropped his axe off in the weapons cabinet.

"Yeah. Eww. Fighting over how many tentacles their slimy god has or not," Cordelia cut in from her place in front of the computer, typing something up. "Still, they're paying clients. They want us to find their idol, let's find their idol. My Visa card debt isn't going to pay itself off this month, after all!"

"Under normal circumstances, Gunn," Wesley said, looking at the black man and ignoring the Seer's input. "I would agree with you that we should stay out of this squabble; but it's not that simple. The Idol of Krijlark'clu'zara is not just a ceremonial artifact for religious rituals. It has great magical power, depending on who possesses it. In the hands of the Elders of the Slarn, it grants good luck, success in enterprises and projects, that sort of thing. But in the hands of the Order of the New Dawn, in the hands of someone willing to use it for ill, it's effectively a weapon of mass destruction."

"How destructive are we talking? And I know you touched on this 'Order of the New Dawn', but what exactly is it?" Angel asked. It was rather odd he hadn't heard of them himself, but then centuries-old vampire didn't automatically equal omniscience, after all.

"Ah. Well, Slarn demons are a more or less harmless. They can fight if they're attacked, certainly, but they're generally non-violent and prefer to live in harmony with humans, among humans. But the Order of the New Dawn is a splinter group from the main body of the clan. They believe in working with the various other 'anti-human' groups to bring about the apocalypse. The standard sort of thing. Largely ineffective in and of themselves due to their infighting, but now that they have the Idol? They could certainly cause damage. They could even reverse the effects of the Idol – rather than creating luck, _**absorb**_ luck from the surrounding area, creating a localized field of expedited entropy."

"What exactly does that mean?" Gunn asked, annoyed by the Englishman's use of big words. He was a high school dropout, and even though Wes knew that, there were times when the boss of the outfit forgot that not everyone was as educated as he was. "Are we talking about destroying the world, or the city, or killin' lots of people, or what? What kind of threat level do we got here, man?"

"Ah, essentially, I meant that they could make things decay at a faster rate." Wesley explained. "For example – they could rot the foundations of a skyscaper in moments, or age dozens of people a century or more in a minute. Slarn demons are immune to the effects, but anyone else? It doesn't even bear thinking about. So to answer your question, Charles, the Order of the New Dawn could use the Idol to cause significant damage, but nothing remotely on the order of destroying the world, or even destruction on a nation-wide scale."

"All right. So, what - should we keep our eyes open for reports of buildings suddenly collapsing, and healthy young people dying of old age?" Cordelia asked, getting off the computer.

"Certainly, but not just that. Those were just examples I came up with, as I said. We need to keep an eye out for anything that obeys the Second Law of Thermodynamics..." Wesley answered absently.

"Again, what exactly does that mean?" Gunn asked, looking more annoyed than ever. "Hey, can't y'all remember that not _**everybody**_ here went to Oxford, or whatever?"

Wes looked sheepish. "Yes, quite. I'm sorry, Charles."

"Okay, so what exactly is this Second Law thing-y?" Cordelia asked. "Sounds kinda geeky. Like something Willow woulda known, back in high school!"

"In a nutshell, the Second Law of Thermodynamics states that _entropy increases_." Wes said grimly. "That any closed system will eventually end up in a state of chaos and disorder. Even the universe itself, billions of years from now..." He checked his watch, then continued. "However, putting all that aside, we should have about a week until the Idol can be used in this manner. Enough time to find the thieves, and it. Slarn demons like dark, wet places, but they also have an acute sense of smell, so the sewers are an unlikely place for the Order to be hiding. But that still leaves us any number of options. I'm hoping I can find more information to allow us to narrow that down further. Unfortunately, it's slow going."

He gestured at one of the books. "This book should have more information about the Idol, Slarn demons, and the old, violent sects of the Slarn that the Order of the New Dawn is seeking to emulate. Unfortunately, it's written in Phoenician. An extinct language I've only a limited fluency with. So I'm trying to piece together a translation, or at least the same information, from these other books."

"Do these demons have any special diet? Something strange – maybe we could track them that way?" Angel asked. "Because I'd rather not sit around waiting for something to happen, while you try and translate stuff out of your books."

"As for the diet thing, not that I'm aware of. And if nothing else, you can go out on patrol and kill vampires when the sun goes down. It would make all this easier, though, if there was something I could point at and say 'find such and such a thing, and from there you'll find our demon order'." Wesley answered. He looked at his watch again. "Bloody hell, it's almost two." He put bookmarks into the various books he had open, piling them up, then closing his notebook and setting it atop the pile. He carried the whole set back into his office, calling out over his shoulder, "So, if you're going to drink any blood Angel, I'd appreciate it if you do it _before_ Daniel gets here."

Angel had already been heading towards the mini-fridge and his blood and rolled his eyes at Wesley. "And what if he opens the fridge while he's here?" He poured blood into a mug and popped it into the microwave, to get a reasonable temperature.

"I think we can manage to prevent him not doing that." Wesley called from the office. He popped his head out, looking to Cordelia. "And he's almost twice your age, so get that look out of your eyes."

"What look?" Cordelia asked innocently.

"You asked yesterday if he was cute, and I can tell you're wondering again now. I can't speak as to how you'll find Daniel's appearance, but for the love of God, Cordelia - _**don't**_ try to flirt with him. You'll only embarrass yourself as well as the rest of us."

The Chase woman glared at him for a moment. "He's, what, the same age you are?"

"A few years older, actually."

"Then it's not a problem." Cordelia replied with a smirk, tossing her hair to one side. "After all, I tried flirting with _**you**_ back in high school, and look how that turned out!" Gunn and Angel both chuckled, and Wesley rolled his eyes.

"How _did_ it turn out, Wesley?" The unfamiliar voice came from the front door of the hotel, and everyone's gaze turned towards it. Wesley recognized the voice and stepped out of the office entirely to greet his friend.

"Daniel!" Wesley smiled. "You're early. As usual. I should have remembered that."

Daniel shrugged. "I always overestimate how long it will take me to get anywhere." He looked at the others. "I'm going to guess, ah...Cordelia, Gunn, Angel?" He pointed to each in turn.

"Indeed." Wesley nodded. "Everyone, this is Doctor Daniel Jackson. Daniel, these are my friends."

"Nice to meet you all. Wesley's told me a lot about you." Dr. Jackson said politely. After everyone greeted him, Gunn excused himself and headed out the door,saying there was something he had to do.

Daniel looked around the room, eyes settling on the weapons cabinet. He looked back to Wesley with a raised eyebrow. "Uh, I know you took fencing seriously at Oxford, but what's with all those?"

"They're mine, actually." Angel explained, putting his mug of blood safely out of sight. He gestured around the hotel lobby. "I own the lease on the building, and well, I collect weapons – museum quality replicas, genuine antiques, the whole set." He smirked. "Besides, in this city, when you go around carrying a sword or an axe – the muggers and thieves and rapists tend to stay away from you. Gives off a vibe of 'too crazy to be worth the trouble'."

Daniel smiled a little at that. "I can imagine." He looked to Wesley and then at Angel curiously. "Uh, not wanting to pry, but you've been working with Wesley in L.A. this long...and you haven't gotten even a _little_ tan?"

Wesley shrugged, figuring that he should have been expecting that question; Daniel was always too perceptive for his own good. "Usually, we're all in here during the day – most of our cases take us outside at night, generally. And as for Angel – well, he just has a problem with the sun. Burns even easier than I do."

Angel, catching on, nodded. "It's gotten to the point where I just don't bother to go out anymore when it's sunny."

Daniel turned back to Wesley, not entirely convinced, but not really having any reason to argue the point. "Interesting place you have here."

"It works for us." Cordelia answered, with a megawatt toothpaste commercial smile. "Anyway. It's nice to meet you at last. Wesley's told us...just a little bit about you." She shook Daniel's hand when he offered it. "So, did you really say that the Pyramids were built by aliens, in public?"

"Cordelia!" Wesley cut in, looking mortified. "Wh-"

"No, it's fine." Daniel held up a hand. "It's not like I don't get asked that question every now and then by the people I meet." He shrugged. "I'm used to it." He looked back at Cordelia. "Actually, that's not exactly what I claimed – I was just presenting the facts that I suppose could, uh, be interpreted that way. Facts that proved that the Pyramids couldn't have been built by the peoples of the Fourth Dynasty – and that the roots of Egyptian civilization go farther back than the traditionally understood five thousand years. It was my detractors who claimed that I was saying aliens built the Pyramids." He shrugged again. "The Egyptological community isn't the most progressive-thinking of academic communities. Divergence from the orthodoxy doesn't exactly make you friends."

Cordelia cracked a smile for a moment. "I can see why you and Wesley get along so well. And, as to the question you asked when you walked in..." Cordelia trailed off when she saw Wesley's glare. She shrugged. "Well, it didn't go all that well."

"Suffice to say." Wesley agreed quietly. As soon as that _horrible_ kiss had taken place in the Sunnydale High library, it was obvious to him that nothing romantic was ever going to develop between them. Which was something of a relief, actually; because Cordelia was almost certainly a rather high-maintenance type of girlfriend, judging from everything he'd seen of her.

The conversation continued on for a few more minutes before Wesley and Daniel headed back into his office. They sat down across the desk from each other.

"So, how have you been, Daniel? Being a translator for the U.S. military seems to agree with you, at least physically." Wesley started to close the open files and books all over his desk, clearing some space.

Daniel shrugged, looking at the spines of some of the books curiously. "It pays the bills. I can't say it's the ideal job for me, but the people I work with are a good group. Like I've said in my letters."

"Still, I wouldn't have imagined it to be such a muscle-building job." Wesley gestured to his old friend's physique.

Daniel laughed at that, echoing Wesley's thoughts earlier about the perceptiveness thing. "I could say the same thing about you and being a private investigator. The last few years haven't been what either of us planned on back in our students days, I imagine."

"No, indeed they haven't." Wesley agreed. "But I'll say this – working here is a lot more fulfilling than working for the IWC ever was. I can help people, I'm good at it, and it annoys the people who thought I'd end up destitute to no end. And then there's my co-workers. They're my friends, even family, to a degree."

"What about your parents in England?" Daniel asked curiously.

Wesley's eyes immediately clouded. "Father and I had...something of a falling out, after I left the IWC. I get in touch with Mum now and then, but it's only sporadic. I prefer not to put her in the middle between her husband and her son, after all."

_Okay, definitely a sore topic. Time to change the subject, I'd say. _Daniel then asked, "What about the Los Angeles night life?"

"I'm sorry?" Wesley asked, instinctively leaping to the wrong conclusion due to his current occupation.

"The dating scene?" Daniel asked, which caused Wes to inwardly sigh in relief. "Have you found anyone to charm with that Oxford accent lately?"

Wesley laughed. "I'm afraid not." he said. "What little free time I do have, I spend in other pursuits nowadays."

_Well, good. At least from the point of view of the SGC, anyway; no romantic entanglements to worry about, if we try to recruit you. _Daniel then said, "So what do you think of the latest dig in what used to be called Cerveteri? The one that found all those interesting Etruscan artifacts?"

"Ah. Interesting that you should mention that..." Wesley replied, as they began talking shop for the next hour or so. There was a free-flowing discussion about the dead languages, and cultural developments, and even legends of Atlantis! Daniel was quickly astounded by the depths of the British man's knowledge base; obviously, his old friend hadn't been lying about his spending his free time on 'other pursuits' since they last saw each other. _That's it, I've __**got**__ to get Wesley into the SGC somehow. He could easily do over half the work I do, without any problems at all! _

"So, Wesley." Daniel said tentatively, wondering exactly how to phrase this. "Have you ever given any thought to the future?"

"What exactly does that mean?" Wesley asked.

The head of Angel Investigations seemed to be about to say more, but then a painfully high-pitched yell, perhaps a shout, was heard outside in the main lobby of the hotel. Muttering a curse, Wesley moved with ease; one hand going beneath his desk, he retrieved the crossbow he'd had stashed in there. He was up and moving towards the door in seconds, the sound of metal clashing on metal the next sound to be heard.

"Wesley! What the hell?" Daniel demanded, looking confused. It sounded to him like there was a sword fight going on out there.

"Stay here!" Wesley said by way of an answer, before running out of the room.

Daniel, predictably enough, didn't do as he was told. And so, his life suddenly took on whole new shades of _complicated_...


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Angel the Series, nor do I own Stargate SG-1. Various people and companies own various parts and rights and financial gain from those two TV shows and all related material. I'm not making any money.

Thanks again to my beta-reader, Starway Man

**Author's Note:** For those interested, I've started a tumblr at: alkenifanfiction . Tumblr . Com (take away the extraneous spaces, obviously), for the purposes of talking on a somewhat meta-level about my fanfics – my reasons for doing X instead of Y, how I feel about this or that character or thing from the fandom, and so on. One of the things it will include is some discussion of concepts, themes or information about the fics themselves that are too long for an author's note, and that I really can't fit into the story itself, due to a lack of space or a lack of an appropriate moment story-wise to explore it. Should be pretty interesting, if you like to get as meta about fics and the fandom as I sometimes do.

Don't need to have a tumblr to look at it, so feel free to check it out periodically, as I'll make posts about all my fics there, and potentially thoughts about past fics of mine, or even upcoming projects in the world of fanfiction. If you're interested, check it out. If you're not, well, on with the fic!

Old Friends

By Alkeni

Chapter 3

**October 8th, 2001  
Angel Investigations, Los Angeles, California**

As Daniel ran out of Wesley's office and into sight of the main lobby, he did a double take to make sure he wasn't seeing things. Then he did a triple take, for good measure. Because what he was seeing looked like something that definitely shouldn't be on Earth – hell, he hadn't seen anything like it on the other side of the Stargate, either.

Wesley, Gunn, Cordelia and Angel were fighting big, blue..._creatures_ that looked like they'd stepped right off the set of a movie. Covered in scales and wearing chain-mail armor, they had swords in their hands. Angel was fighting two of them, a heavy broadsword in each hand – and just how was _that _possible to do as smoothly as Angel made it look, Daniel had no idea – combating his enemies, clashing his swords onto theirs, blocking blows. Daniel caught a glimpse of the pale man's face and recoiled in horror. It was completely distorted, all bumps and ridges and the eyes, an unnatural catlike shape and color – an utterly inhuman yellow.

Daniel didn't have much time to ponder that, as the fighting kept happening, a third such creature fighting Gunn, who fought with an axe that looked like it had been made out of a cut-up car hubcap. Despite the situation he found himself in, Daniel had to note that both Gunn and Angel fought with those weapons exactly how they should be used in a fight...

An ear-piercing screech had Daniel clamping his hands to his ears as a crossbow bolt flew from Wesley into one of the things, a small spurt of green liquid erupting out from the wound as the creature staggered backwards. Angel took advantage of the motion and redirected both blades to targeting his other enemy for a moment.

Wesley reloaded his crossbow as Cordelia fired a crossbow of her own at the creature fighting Gunn. That bolt only skimmed the creature's chain-mailed arm, but the young woman was unfazed by her failure, moving to reload her crossbow with calm, cool, practiced ease.

Daniel watched, lowering his hands from his ears only to raise them back up as Angel sliced through the elbow of one of his enemies, removing the arm.

_This is L.A. So either there's a movie camera nearby, one that I can't see _– _or Wesley is fighting aliens that we've never encountered before. _Daniel looked around again, but he still couldn't see any studio lights or cameras, any indication that this was some kind of filming set – and if it was, then the special effects for the fighting were already good, especially as Gunn took a kick and punch to the stomach, then a slice along his left leg. It was nothing beyond superficial, Daniel could tell – four years with the Stargate Program had given him too much familiarity with injuries – as long as the black man didn't bleed to death from it.

No cameras. No movie director or film crew. And those couldn't be special effects. As Angel dispatched one of his foes, Cordelia and Wesley' fire their crossbows into the other, taking it down, one in the chest and one in the leg – great sucking gasps suggested a lung had been pierced. _Well, assuming these things have lungs in the same place we do...good grief, Sam and Janet are going to go __**nuts**__ studying these things..._

Daniel reached for his cell phone, wishing he'd brought a zat'nik'tel with him as Gunn took down the last creature – Angel had moved on it, and while it was distracted with the other man, Gunn had sliced into his back.

Wesley turned his head back to look at his office – and saw Daniel standing there, starting to dial a cell phone. _Blast._ _I suppose I should have known he wouldn't stay in the office..._ Was it really so much to ask to just have one day where things _didn't_ go wrong? They had them, often, but never when they really needed them. Such as when a friend who didn't know anything about the supernatural was visiting

"Daniel, whoever you're going to call, please don't. This isn't a matter for the police, or – well, anyone else." Wesley set his crossbow down on the central circular couch, as Cordelia moved dropped her own weapon. Both of them made their way over to the desk, Cordelia picking up a first aid-kit and moving to Gunn, while Wesley made his way to Daniel, standing by the office doors.

Daniel lowered his cell phone, but he didn't put it back in his pocket. Whatever the hell was going on, he could at least be sure his old friend wasn't going to kill him or otherwise hurt him, so it might be a good idea to hear the man out. _Face it, it might not be a good idea to bring outsiders in here __**without **__all the facts._ Dr. Jackson watched as Angel's face returned to normal, a smooth transition that happened over the course of just a second. Wesley stood there a moment, clearly thinking.

"Are you thinking of a believable explanation that's also a complete lie?" Daniel asked him slowly.

"I would be, if I thought one existed. Unfortunately, I don't believe there really is one. Three dead demons right in front would tend to make denials difficult, especially since you're not already coming up with your own explanations."

_Demons?_ Daniel supposed he could see some logic there – some of the worlds they'd been to called the Goa'uld or Jaffa demons, and even if someone wasn't willing to grant an alien godhood, their unearthly nature and 'magical' powers could lead to the use of the term or something similar to describe it. "Demons?" Daniel raised his eyebrow, the skepticism in his voice not really forced. That would have to be the first thing he'd have to get the four of them to understand – aliens, not demons. He pointed to Angel, the wildcard so far. "And I suppose he's a demon as well?"

"Angel is...complicated." Wesley replied after a moment. Given the situation – and given that this was his old friend, the former Watcher was quite sure that the best option was simply to tell the truth. The full truth. "Angel is a, uh, vampire. And yes, that word does mean what you think it does. Hence why he's so abnormally pale."

"A vampire?" Daniel looked at him. _Vampire?_ he asked himself in bemused confusion. _Okay, wasn't expecting that... _"It's the middle of the afternoon. Assuming this isn't a joke, shouldn't he be in a coffin?" Jackson asked the ex-Watcher.

"The last time I was in a coffin is when I was buried in it." Angel said, wiping – demon blood? – off his swords with a rag. "I don't turn into a bat, garlic doesn't repel me, and Anne Rice doesn't know what the hell she's talking about."

"You had that speech already prepared, didn't you?" Wesley said to Angel, his tone somewhat accusing.

"Knock on wood or not, Wesley, you know what our luck is like around here." Angel replied. He looked to Daniel. "Okay, I'm going to assume from your earlier question, you saw my other face?" Angel was just a little hesitant in his tone, but this time there wasn't a damsel in distress in sight, so it was a lot less awkward. Daniel nodded, head still swimming as he tried to process everything. Angel added, "That was my 'vampire face', so to speak."

"Vampire face." Daniel said slowly, cocking his head to the side. "And this isn't any sort of prank, or joke, or misdirection..."

"Well, duh!" Cordelia said, throwing her arms up.

"You do drink blood, I take it?" Daniel asked, ignoring the brunette completely. He certainly understood the concepts of legends and such growing in the telling – the Asgard, after all, didn't look a thing like the legends said (though at least there was a hologram explanation to cover that).

Angel nodded. "I do. And don't look at me like that. I drink pigs blood. We were actually wondering how to explain that, if you opened the fridge and saw all of it in there."

"You actually keep your blood refrigerated?" Of course, it made a certain amount of sense...any non-human creature would want to keep is food source fresh, after all... "Okay, I suppose I can buy that...so vampires and demons are real. Something else I need to know?" Part of Daniel wondered why he wasn't freaking out at this revelation – and he didn't doubt the explanation at all, not what he'd seen, and his own experience with the Stargate program. Demons and vampires...there was some kind of reasonable explanation, doubtless tracing to aliens than some supernatural mumbo-jumbo, howsoever Wesley and no doubt many others viewed it.

_Does the government know about all this?_ Wait, ridiculous question; they would have to. Which meant that some other entity other than the Stargate program was handling aliens of an entirely different stripe. Military? Or maybe some civilian agency...

Daniel suppressed a shudder at the idea of the N.I.D. having access to this knowledge...with their track record, they'd probably try mind-controling these 'demons' and 'vampires', or carry other experiments with them that didn't really bear thinking on...

"Yes, a great deal. First off, Daniel, like Angel said; forget what Ms. Rice wrote in her fantasy novels. Every single vampire other than him are soulless, monstrous killing machines that should be avoided at all costs – or destroyed, if you can manage it." Wesley continued. "And if you ever find yourself facing one, the best advice would be to run like hell. Even the weakest, youngest vampire is significantly stronger than any human."

"If they're stronger, they'd be faster, right? So running doesn't really seem that great an option either." Daniel pointed out, then looked to Angel. "So every other vampire is evil, and you're not? What makes you an exception? And why are _all_ vampires evil? That's a pretty broad laying of guilt."

"Guilt has got nothing to do with it. To be a vampire, Dr. Jackson, is to have a demonic spirit living within a human corpse, animating it and using it to do whatever it wants." _Now doesn't that sound familiar?_ Daniel had to note to himself while Angel spoke. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Cordelia finish putting the bandage on Gunn's leg. She looked at her hands – which had blood on them, and wiped them clean, hurrying into the bathroom, muttering something about how the blood was going to ruin her nail polish. The sheer absurdity of it, juxtaposed against everything else made him chuckle, then laugh, just for a moment.

Angel's grave expression didn't change at Daniel's laughter – then again, it really was mostly the expression he'd worn the entire time Daniel had been here, so far as the archaeologist could figure. "A vampire may look human, but it's not. The demon inhabiting the corpse is evil. Pure evil. I can't put it any more simply than that. It doesn't care about any atrocity, any action – to revel in cruelty and suffering is what a vampire, any vampire, does. It kills. It feeds. At first it's like a shark, doing it what it does out of survival; but later, it gets to _**like**_ the killing and blood-letting. Trust me, there are no 'good' vampires out there."

"Except you?"

"A one-off aberration. Some gypsies cursed me with my soul as punishment for killing a daughter of the Kalderash clan." Angel explained. "Imagine...over a hundred years of killing and torturing...-"

"and to suddenly care? They gave you a conscience?" Daniel had spoken to Teal'c, more than once, about the Jaffa's struggle to live with some of the things he had done as First Prime of Apophis. Dr. Jackson got the general idea, even though Teal'c hadn't had some kind of 'magical' transformation. "So vampires, demons and magic? What's next, pink unicorns?"

"Don't be ridiculous." Cordelia said, coming out of the bathroom. Then she looked to Wesley. "That _**is**_ ridiculous, right?"

"Unicorns do not exist, to the best of my knowledge." Wesley confirmed. "There are certain demonic breeds of horses that superficially resemble the mythic creature known as the unicorn, however."

"Demonic horses? Okay, you lost me. I though demons were...those things." Daniel pointed.

"There are innumerable species of demon, Daniel," Wesley said. "When I was last able to check, there had been some 10,234 and a half identified unique species of demon. Add in subspecies and offshoots, and the number grows to somewhere around thirty thousand, depending on who you talk to."

"Hang on, a half? What's half a species?! That's absurd." Angel smiled and laughed just a little himself, and Daniel saw no glimpse of any fangs...

Wesley looked Angel and replied softly, "Vampires. There's been debate over if vampires technically count as a 'demon' or not, for as long as the Watchers Council has existed. About a hundred years ago, they finally split the difference and called them half a species in the official roster."

Angel looked vaguely insulted even as Daniel held up a hand, head still swimming. There was total immersion and then there was drowning in a flood of new information. "Okay, wait." He said, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Let me try to understand this. Demons, vampires and magic all exist? And there's up to thirty thousand different kinds of demon?" _All on Earth? Even allowing for them hiding, that kind of alien presence would __**have**__ to get noticed...someone would have talked, the gossip would have reached us in Colorado...oh, I'm starting to get a headache_! "So...what are those demons on the floor, and why did they attack this place? And what are you, some kind of supernatural detectives?"

"In order?" Wesley asked, then continued. "Correct, correct, Slarn demons, because we're hunting for a magical idol their faction stole from the elders of their clan, and also correct."

Daniel let his jaw drop a moment. There was just...something about the matter of fact way Wesley had said all that, which had pushed a button in his brain to make him believe that no one here was bull-shitting him in the slightest. "And what else do I need to know?"

"Much more than just this, the summary of the abridged version, which is all we have time for right now. On a related note, though, how good is your Phoenician nowadays?"

"Okay, I guess." Daniel suddenly had the weirdest feeling that either Wesley would fit right in to the SGC, or that the British man might eventually offer him a job here at Angel Investigations...


End file.
